


Blue is the Color of the Sky

by SailorKamenRider



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is actually Michael and not just the vessel, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, MoL Charlie, Mol sam, angel!dean, nephilim cas, some violence and torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorKamenRider/pseuds/SailorKamenRider
Summary: The Archangel Michael used to be heaven's greatest weapon until he was trapped in the human world. Powerful sigils bound him and seals away most of his powers and memories. Going only with his new name: Dean, he struggles to return to his home, and most importantly to remember something or someoneassociated with a color he barely remembers: Blue





	Blue is the Color of the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks are in order! To my wonderful artist Miggles who made the stunning art, and my Beta Shait who made this story better.

Colors.

After Darkness and Light, when the Universe had just began its life, there were colors. Hundreds? Thousands? Innumerable colors no human could ever count nor distinguish.

But angels could.

Because they were there when the swirling sea of colors filled the void left by the Darkness. They sung to each other while wading into the currents, calling each other’s names.

Colors.

Names.

~o~

“Good morning, sunshine!”

The high-pitched, sing-song voice broke his reverie and he peeled his eyes away from the seemingly dancing pattern of colors on the floor.

“And how is my prized angel today?”

A man in a tailored suit walked into the cell, a woman trailed behind, pushing a small trolley.

“Time for your medicine, little one.”

Feathers shuffled as he tried to get up, joints aching as he tried to stretch his wings and winced as the clamps dug deeper into them. The woman parked her trolley in one corner of the cell and busied herself with whatever’s on it.

“How are you feeling today, Dean?” the man snickered, walking around him, inspecting him.

“I’m not Dean.” He snarled, but the man just laughed.

“Of course. And what might your name be?” the man was taunting him, as he does every day.

His name.

He tried to remember what it is. He knows it’s something special, something he’s proud of.

“el…” he whispered.

Burning. Something burns him, a searing pain spreads over his chest. It does that every time he tries to remember anything about his past, especially his name. But it’s not like it ever stopped him. Not minding the pain, he wracked his brain into remembering, his mouth letting out a sound that tried to put words onto his tongue. He has to remember.

“Mmm-Mi…” he hissed as the pain intensified. The man stood a few feet from him, watching, the corners of his mouth curled.

“MICHAEL!” He screamed. The man’s smile fell.

“Michael. My name’s Michael, and I’m going to fucking kill you once I get out of this stinking cell.” He lifted his head, and despite the trickle of blood that trailed down his nose, his green eyes blazed with defiance

The man stomped his feet and marched toward him, meeting his gaze with an equally devious glare.

“You are Dean. You will always be Dean.”

“Dean” just smirked, he rattled the chains binding him to the walls as he tried to lunge at his captor. He delighted at the sudden spark of fear and wariness in the man’s eyes. But his triumph was short lived as his captor muttered several words and “Dean” convulsed.

“I see you still have some fight left in you.” The man said, voice cold as he watched Dean thrash and pull at his restraints, enveloped in what looked like streaks of lightning.

“But you still don’t see that you’re already beaten.”  He watched as “Dean” slumped on the floor.

“Just give up, you belong to me now”

The man lifted “Dean’s” chin and to his surprise, despite the obvious toll on the archangel’s body, the light of rebelliousness still shone in those green eyes.

“In your dreams, asshat.” A projectile of blood flew from “Dean’s” mouth to the man’s cheek, making the archangel grin.

The man hissed and let go. “Dean” watched as the man walk over to where the woman stood, reached out to something on the trolley to retrieve what looked like a silver syringe. “Dean” renewed his struggle, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Not so cheeky now, huh.” The man chuckled, holding up the instrument before driving it into the crook of “Dean’s” neck.

“Dean” let out a scream as the man pulled the plunger, extracting grace from the archangel. His body slumped further, and would’ve hit the floor if not for the lengthy chain that held him up. Even so, his arms bore the weight of his listless body while his captor stood up and hummed his way back to the door.

“Clean him up and make sure he’s presentable. We have some business to attend to later and I want my collection looking their best when they’re displayed for my patrons.” The man ordered the woman.

It didn’t take long for the man to leave, and the woman immediately ran to the archangel.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not rile him up?” she scolded “Dean” who, intended on laughing ended up hacking up some blood.

“Can’t help it. He’s a total douchebag.” The woman gave him a disapproving look.

Angels are able to heal themselves, but in his case, the invisible restraints branded on his skin, along with the added power of the clamps and chains physically binding him, made healing a slow process. Mia passed a damp washcloth over his body and she released the clamps on his wings so she could run some warm water over them in an attempt to clean them.

“I feel like a wet dog every time you do that.” He complained as Mia pored over his other wing.

“Sorry, but that’s the least I can do.”

“Dean’s” eyes searched the floor once again. He wanted to see that patch of color on it as it helped him remember things. But it’s gone now. He looked up and saw the sky had turned dark and he sighed.

“Michael.” Mia began.

“Michael?” still, no response.

“Michael.”

He jumped as he felt something touch him, and instinctively stiffened. When he realized that it was only Mia, he softened up and smiled.

“Yes?”

“You did a good job remembering your name today.” She smiled.

“You shoulda seen the look on Sinclair’s face. Priceless.”

“I wish I could remember more…” he continued, eyes still on the floor.

“Are you still thinking about it?”

“Yes.”

“But your name is Michael, it’s not Dean. You said so, yourself earlier. Why bother finding out about who gave you that name?”

Yes, what Mia said made perfect sense. He’s Michael, commander of the Heavenly Host and chief among the angels. He lords over Heaven in the absence of their Father. He has no name other than what his beloved father had given him. And yet…

_ “Dean.” _

There’s a faint voice in his head, something like a dream rather than memory. Yet he knew it happened to him, somewhere, some time.

_ “You look like a Dean to me” _

He could pick out the words, but the voice, the tone, was fuzzy to him.

“Sinclair said he was the one to name you. Don’t you believe it?” Mia asked, breaking his concentration.

“He’s a scumbag. I’d rather believe in Lucifer’s words than his.”

“So you think someone else gave you that name?”

Yes.

_ “Okay, so you’re Dean. Dean…. Winchester! You’ll be Dean Winchester from now on.” _

“Dean Winchester. That’s my name.” he smiled fondly.

~o~

Mia left after she finished cleaning up. And much as she wanted to leave the angel’s wings free, she knew Sinclair would punish both of them if he found out so she attached the clamps back, adjusting them slightly so they won’t bite so hard on his wings. She returned the trolley back to the supply room and retrieved some cleaning supplies so she could go about her duties as Sinclair’s all around maid.

As she passed by the archangel’s cell, she wondered if he would ever regain his memories. She heard muffled sounds from the door and she pressed her ear on it to listen.

The angel was reciting colors.

~o~

Dark.

He could hear his surroundings, but the bag over his head kept him in the dark. He never really liked the dark, it reminded him so much of his aunt, and her rage. He and his brothers helped their father contain the Darkness, but the effects of her power would sometimes float around him. Just like now.

He felt helpless and alone, not being able to know what’s happening is unsettling him, especially when he can’t do anything. When the werewolves took him out of his cell, his chains were replaced by cuffs warded with Enochian spells that limit not only his movements but his strength and grace as well. He was dressed in clean, flowing robes, adorned with a gold circlet on his head, necklaces and arm bands made of gold that held spells that would ensure him being compliant.

“Welcome!”

He heard Sinclair’s voice echo throughout the room. It had been so silent before that he thought they were alone. But of course, for these kinds of parties, there’s always a crowd. As much as he hated it, he had no choice but to listen to Sinclair’s ramblings, and that’s when the smell hit him.

The same sickly sweet smell of flowers and herbs, he thrashed in his chains because he knew what those fumes did to him. He heard the crowd stir up, their voices grew louder the more he struggled.  He gritted his teeth and tried to stay still, those animals get a kick out of knowing he’s there and they could make him dance around their dirty palms for the night. As long as he’s got control of himself, he won’t let them get their way.

The fumes grew stronger, and he knew he’d be under its spell in no time. He cursed himself and his weakness as he felt his mind slowly slip away.

~o~

_ “Dean! Dean!” _

It’s that voice again. And why’s he being called Dean? He’s Michael, the archangel Michael.

_ “Yes?” _

Why was he answering? His name is not Dean, it’s Michael. He’s Michael.

~o~

The crowd let out a collective gasp as the cloth covering the cage was pulled away. Inside was a man, or rather, an angel. He’s laying on the floor of the cage, as if asleep. Sinclair silenced the crowd with his hand and put a whistle on his lips. At the shrill tone, the angel’s head rose up, and the crowd applauded.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Sinclair greeted as glazed green eyes stare at him.

“Please greet our guests.”

With this, the angel stood up, wings extended to fullest and gave a bow. More cheers and claps were obtained from the audience.

“Will you entertain our guests while I take care of business?”

With this, the door to his cage opened and he flew off, circling the room thrice before landing beside Sinclair.

“Precious isn’t he?” he turned to “Dean”

“Go sit on your throne and look pretty for our guests.” Without a word, he made his way back to his cage where a throne was. He sat on it and attendants came in and strapped his hands against the arm rest.

~o~

His mind wandered again. The voice disappeared and he’s now seeing colors, all kinds of colors. He recited their name one by one, he knew them of course, every angel knows about every single color that exists.

Save one.

No matter how many times he tried, he still missed one. He can’t have miscalculated, he’s programmed to know them all. But why is he missing one name? He tried to remember what he associated that color with. It was a trick he used so Gabriel could remember the colors and that’s what he did.

The petals of the sunflower are yellow.

The leaves are green.

Red is the blood of the humans.

Black for the feathers of ravens.

He did this on and on until he completed his list. But not quite. He still missed one.

What is it? What could it be?

The sea.

But the sea is sometimes green.

_ “Dean!” _

Again, the voice called him.

Clouds. But clouds are white.

_ “Dean!” _

Sky?

Ah yes. The sky, he belonged to the sky. The sky that he flew in  whenever he snuck down to earth. He belonged to sky, and the sky is made for him.

But what is the color of the sky?

_ “Dean!” _

What’s the color of the thing that belonged to him?

~o~

“CASTIEL!”

The room grew silent, Sinclair turned to his captive. Life was starting to return to Dean’s eyes, and with them out of his sanctuary, it would be dangerous to have an archangel go berserk. He hastily concluded the gathering, stuffed the money he had milked from his patrons buying grace, feathers, and a chance to be healed. He motioned for his attendants to tighten the restraints while he gathered the ingredients needed for his spell. And soon, they vanished.

~o~

“Castiel?”

A tall man in an impeccably oversized suit greeted him. Castiel tilted his head, no one ever asked for him. He doesn’t even know if anyone in town knows him, so why does he have a giant outside his house.

 

“Yes?”

“My name is Sam. Sam Winchester, can I talk to you?”

Castiel considered the question. He doesn’t know a Sam Winchester, but he did know of another Winchester, the young man who helped him and when he was young…

“Did you say Winchester? Do you know Henry?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, I know Henry. In fact…” Sam rummaged inside his coat for something.

“He’s my grandfather.”

Castiel took an involuntary step back into the house. Grandfather? That’s absurd. When he met Henry, the young man wasn’t past his twenties, and given that he’s only been away for a few years, the man in front of him couldn’t be Henry’s grandson. Son, maybe, he’d probably accept it, but grandson?!

“I’m sorry, you must be talking about the wrong Henry.”

“No! Here’s a picture of him. You might recognize him.” The man, Sam, thrust a yellowed photograph in front of him and Castiel took it.

“This is Henry! But I don’t…” Castiel looked up.

“That’s my father when he was nineteen. Here he is with his son, my father, John Winchester.” Castiel received another photo, this one with an older Henry standing behind a little boy who was hugging a trophy.

“And this was taken a few years before he died.” The last one showed a very old and grey Henry, laughing while being surrounded by family. Castiel immediately noted the tall, gangly boy and identified him as Sam.

But how could it be? Surely he hasn’t been gone that long.

“What year is it?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“2018.”

Castiel gaped at him. The last time he checked, the last time he saw Henry Winchester, was during the early 40s.

~o~

“Dean” screamed, voice muffled by the gag tied securely over his mouth. The angel blade sliced through his skin, forming lines and patterns that bloomed red. An ordinary angel blade couldn’t kill an archangel, but it could still deal damage, and still hurt like a bitch. Sinclair wiped his brow and admired his handiwork: a mess of symbols unreadable by normal humans circle his limbs, an additional binding to ensure that the angel won’t try to fight him the way he did after Sinclair’s gathering.

“There, let’s see you break free from that.” The man said to himself.

“Dean”, still defiant, only glared at Sinclair. The man could go and hurt him as much as he wanted but he’s never going to break, not when he’s uncovered something…

Castiel.

In his haze, he uttered something: Castiel. He has no idea what it was, but if his instinct is right, it’s a name. An angel’s name. But he’s aware of the name of every angel in Heaven, and there’s none named Castiel.

“Michael, are you alright?”

It was Mia. He hadn’t even realized that Sinclair had gone from the room and Mia came in. The shifter is again with her trusted trolley. She undid the gag and the restraints tying “Dean” to the makeshift operating table.

“He really went too far this time.” Mia’s lips were thin lines as she eyed the wounds.

“Don’t worry, sugar.” “Dean” winced

“They’ll heal. It’ll take more than these scratches to off me.” He tried to sound cheeky, but his voice came out rough.

“You’re healing process gets slower by the day. And now with this new spell, who knows how long it will take you to heal yourself.”

She’s right, and “Dean” knew it. As much as he hated to admit it, the longer he remains trapped, the weaker he becomes. Sinclair had locked most of his powers away, even his memories. Little by little he’s becoming more like a puppet. It might take centuries, but if he stayed, he’s going to end up like a mindless toy. He shuddered.

“Sorry dear, I’ll be careful next time.” Mia said, mistaking his terror for pain.

“Whatever made you act up like you did, Michael? You nearly destroyed the house, you almost escaped.”

Ah, that’s right. When Sinclair zapped him back into the house after the gathering, he attacked the human and his aides. His brain was still fuzzy from whatever was in the fumes he’d inhaled, but he still had enough power to fight. Or so he thought. He’d been about to gain the upper hand when Sinclair activated his bindings. He felt his grace turn to molten lava and he writhed in pain, and that’s how Sinclair got him again.

But that was the closest he got to busting out of this hellhole, the first in a very long time, and that’s because of Castiel.

“What are you grinning about?” Mia asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“You’re an archangel Michael, you’re not supposed to tell lies.” She admonished.

“I remembered something…” he began.

“It-it’s not much, but it came to me, hit me like lightning. A name, Castiel.” Mia stopped.

“Castiel? Is he a friend of yours? An angel?” he shook his head.

“I don’t know. I just blurted it out, but it makes me feel something…”

“Is it good or bad?”

“Good. If a name alone could make me go all out on Sinclair like that, then it could only be good.”

“Well, then always keep that name close to you..”

“I’m afraid we can’t have that.”

The two jumped when Sinclair’s voice echoed around. The man shoved Mia aside and before “Dean” could make his move, Sinclair breathed a puff of powder in front of “Dean” that rendered him immobile.

“You bastard… Don’t…”

With a smirk, Sinclair placed his hand on “Dean’s” forehead and muttered a few words.

“Dean” tried to fight it, to hold on to his new discovery. In his mind, he repeated the name over and over again.

Castiel.

Castiel.

The spell was winning, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and his mind became cloudy. Still, he won’t give up.

Castiel.

Castiel.

Castiel.

And as if the last gasp of a dying man, he muttered.

“Blue.”

Then everything went black.

~o~

“Castiel!”

Sam called to the man. They were walking along a busy street when he suddenly lost Castiel. Distressed, Sam retraced his steps until he saw the man standing in front of a vending machine.

“Thank goodness you’re here. You scared me.”

“Sam…” Castiel began, raising a hand to point at the machine.

“This box. What does it do? I saw a man slide in some coins then it made a grumbling sound then the man reached for something…” Sam tried to hold back a laugh.

“It’s a vending machine. It sells you drinks.”

“But the person inside, wouldn’t they be suffocating already?” The look of genuine concern on Castiel’s features, partnered by the man’s pleading blue eyes looked so cute it’s almost silly. Sam once again held back a laugh.

“No. There’s no person inside. It’s just a machine.” Castiel still looked like a confused puppy. Sam pulled out a bill from his wallet and fed it to the machine.

“Okay, what do you want? Press the button of the drink you want.”

“But I’m not thirsty.”

“Okay then…” Sam proceeded to push the button for a Coke and after a series of whirrs, something landed in the chute beneath the machine.

“Go on.” Sam smiled.

“It’s cold.” Castiel remarked as he withdrew the can.

“Yes.”

“And there’s no one manning it?” Castiel walked around the box, inspecting it.

“None.” Castiel hummed. Looking at the can still in his hand.

“A lot sure has changed.”

Sam smiled, then gently nudged Castiel so they could go on their way. He had explained to Castiel that he was there because he had found an entry in his grandfather’s journal about a hidden village and a name, Castiel followed by a question mark. Out of curiosity, he travelled from Kansas to the Pacific Northwest to see what it’s about. Castiel had graciously accepted him, even took up his offer to have him tour the outside world as a proof that it’s already 2018.

But Sam’s keeping something from his new friend. The real reason why he drove that far was that “Castiel” was his grandfather’s greatest work. He had found a stash of documents, maps, and even photographs filed under “Angels” together with a note in his grandfather’s handwriting:

_ Every Man of Letter seems to have something, a cause which they devote their life to and maybe this is mine. No matter what happens, I must find this child. I know Michael had taken great lengths to secure Castiel’s wellbeing, but Michael himself said that Cutberth Sinclair will go to great lengths to get his hands on Castiel if he is to know the boy’s location. _

_ That’s why, I am making this my lifelong task, to locate and keep Castiel away from Sinclair and I hope my children and their children’s children will take up my mantle when the time comes. _

And that’s why Sam’s been working on this case. But apparently, Castiel couldn’t remember anything. He’s still debating whether it’s better like this or to try and jog Castiel’s memory. Sam doesn’t know much about Sinclair aside from the man being kicked out of the organization for his radical ways. He contemplated if he could just let Castiel live his life in innocent bliss, no need to trouble a good man with something that was obviously kept from him for security purposes.

But then again, if  _ he _ was able to find Castiel, Sinclair could also locate him as well.

~o~

Mia knocked twice before entering Sinclair’s study. The man was poring over several papers and muttering to himself, practically dismissing Mia who went on about her duties, cleaning.

“Mia.” The sweetness of the voice sent chills throughout her body.

“Yes?”

She turned to face the head of the house, and the grin on the man’s face sickened her.

“You’re quite good friends with Dean, yes?”

Mia was unsure on how to answer, as she’s sure “Dean” will get the short end of the stick as usual. She instead searched Sinclair’s face, and saw only the devious grin plastered on his face. She pursed her lips.

“Now, don’t be too coy about it, I know you and our resident angel are having a little chit chat now and again. So…”

By this time, Sinclair had walked towards her, clamping his hands on her shoulders, the smirk on his face hiding the strength of his grip.

“I need you to do something for me…”

~o~

Sam frowned at the hideously patterned wallpaper of his cheap motel room. He’d let Castiel go home for the day, but told the man he’d be returning. His visit to Castiel yielded almost no useful information whatsoever. Aside from the fact that the man apparently stayed cooped up in that house for decades and hasn’t aged a bit, there’s nothing more to be gained.

Castiel himself was vague in answering Sam’s questions, and Sam’s sure it wasn’t intentional, the man looked like he was struggling to remember things, making Sam wonder if Castiel was under some spell.

“Let’s see what dad has on this guy.”

Sam pulled out a thick journal from his bag, full of notes in his father’s handwriting about angels: sightings, coordinates, but most especially, the list of names that were encircled on one page:

Lily Sunders

Akobel – Seraphim

Zaphikiel – Seraphim

Michael – Archangel

Sam had delved into whatever lore he could get on angels and pretty much gotten the normal bit of information about Michael, but nothing about the two other angels. But Lily Sunders…

“I guess that’s who I should investigate next.”

Of course he’d done his preliminary reading about Lily Sunders, of how she’d been a pioneer in Enochian studies. But unfortunately, she died sometime in 1916 from a stabbing incident.

“Sounds really fishy.”

Unfortunately there was nothing more to be said about Lily Sunder’s death.

_ Ring _

Sam picked up his phone and grinned as he saw Charlie’s name.

“Charlie, please tell me you have something.”

“Did I ever disappoint, Sam? Check your mail.”

Sam grabbed his laptop and pulled up his emails. Charlie’s email has attachments that consist of pictures: an article from an old newspaper, and some blurred photos.

“Okay, so this is Lily Sunders from…” Sam squinted, trying to read the caption.

“Steeplechase park in Coney Island. 1898” Charlie announced.

“Where’d you find this?!” Sam gasped

“I’ll explain later. You see those people beside her? The man and the little girl?”

The picture was taken in a crowded place, and obviously, the center of the picture was the big, elephant thing, but a little to the right, stood a woman who looks so much like Lily Sunders, flanked by a man, and a little girl who’s holding her hand.

“The girl is her child, May who died not long after in a burglary attack. But the man…” Charlie stopped.

“…is said to be a preacher from Minnesota, going by the name of Rev. Scott Warren, who had gone missing a year ago.”

“So, a preacher skipped and maybe Lily Sunders was his lover?”

“Nope. Because according to the forum I pulled this out from, before Rev. Warren skipped town, his demeanor changed, and his wife said he called himself Akobel.”

Sam spared a look at his dad’s journal. Akobel, the seraphim Akobel.

“So, you’re saying that an angel possessed some preacher and what? Went on to a honeymoon with a mortal? And the child is too old to be theirs isn’t she?”

“May is Lily’s child with her husband, what Akobel was doing there, I have no idea. But there you have it, two of the names on your dad’s list.”

“No, not yet, Charlie, where did you get this stuff?”

“Some deep web forum. You know us from the Men of Letters need to be up to date with the tech. So, how’d your errand go. Did you see Castiel?”

Sam narrated his experience and Charlie listened carefully, butting in once in a while for questions. When Sam was done, he asked his friend about her opinion.

 

“He sounds like a decent dude. But then again, serial killers look like decent dudes until they start their murder spree. Are you going to visit him again?”

“I might. But I want to find out more about this Lily Sunders. Can you help me about Akobel, or Rev. Scott?”

“You got it, captain.”

Before Charlie said goodbye, she said something that stayed with Sam throughout the whole night.

“Say, Sam, don’t you think that guy’s name is weird?”

“Hm?”

“Castiel.”

“Yes, his name is unique.”

“No, I meant. CastiEL. Y’know, el, from the angel names?”

“Are you saying?”

“Dude doesn’t age, lives in a remote, almost impossible to find place. Unless he’s a vamp, it could be a long shot…”

Sam pondered on that as he tried to sleep that night. His grandfather was mighty obsessed with angels throughout his lifetime, and his father had some interest in them too. But for Castiel to be an angel, it would mean he would have been a fallen one for him to be stuck here. Sam heaved a sigh, he’s plunged himself into a pretty deep rabbit hole and he just hopes he sees the then end of it before he dies.

~o~

“Dean, tell me about Castiel.”

 

Mia knelt on the floor of Dean’s cell, the smell of incense hung heavy in the air and the archangel was slumped on the floor, eyes half lidded and glowing blue.

“N-no.”

“Dean, please. I know you remembered his name, you have to tell me anything.”

Sinclair stood at the corner of the cell, watching as the shifter tried to coax some information from the angel.

“Dean. What’s with the color blue? You mentioned it before you passed out-“

Even before Mia finished her sentence, the glow in the angel’s eyes brightened and his wings started flapping, struggling against the clamps.

“Dean!”

The angel continued thrashing, teeth grinding. Mia stepped away, frightened. Sinclair impatiently marched to the archangel and delivered a kick on his shoulder, heel trying to press him down.

“It’s no use fighting, tell us what you know. Where is Castiel?”

Sinclair muttered under his breath and the sigils around the angel’s body glowed red, earning a scream from the angel. Sinclair released him, watched as he squirmed in pain.

“Stop!” Mia screamed.

“You’re hurting him! You’re never getting Castiel’s information this way!”

Sinclair seemed to be sobered by this, and immediately, the bright red writings on Dean’s skin disappeared.

“This will take a while. Let me handle it. We’ll do it slowly.” Sinclair looked her up and down and she steeled herself against his inquiring gaze. Finally, the man relented.

“Fine. But we don’t have much time. We can’t keep this up too long.”

It took several hours before Mia was able to return to the angel’s cell. She had to make sure Sinclair had retired for the night before she made her way back to the angel. As she let    herself into the cell, she saw the angel looking once again at the patches on color from the stained glass illuminated by the moon.

“You did well today, Dean.” She smiled.

“Did I say anything?” Mia shook her head.

“Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“Angels know every color that exists…” the angel began

“and it’s funny, because no matter what I do, there’s one color I can’t remember. It’s bothering me not only because I should know, but I feel like that one color is very important to me.”

“Blue.” The angel looked at her.

“That’s the color you’re missing. Blue.”

“I see. What does it look like?”

Mia looked around, but the cell being empty did not help her with finding anything blue so she promised to return the next day with something.

“Thank you. And thank you for sticking your neck out for me.” The angel smirked.

“Dean. You never called me Dean before. I heard it, somehow I heard it while I was under whatever fumes Sinclair had going in this room. I thought the asshat must’ve been up to something. Thank you for whatever you did.”

“I know you hate being called Dean.” She laughed.

“No, I don’t think that’s true…” his voice trailed off as his eyes were drawn back to the colors on the floor.

“I better get going now, it’s dangerous if we’re seen like this.”

“Thank you.”

Dean barely heard the door close as he was busy staring back at the colors.

“Blue.” He muttered under his breath.

“Castiel.”

~o~

Sam drove to Orono Maine to investigate more about Lily Sunders. After leafing through decades of newspaper articles, he finally found the two articles he’s most interested in: the death of Lily Sunders in 1916  and the burglary and…

_ Mystery bones found to be tied to local child May Sunders and missing reverend Scott Warren. Local police released the information about the bones that have been dug up in separate location in Orono Maine. _

Sam continued reading the article, but found nothing relevant. As the bodies were discovered several years after their deaths, and given that no one had reported either of them missing, the case came to a dead end.

Sam next went to the university where Lily used to study and teach. No one of course has heard of her aside from the fact that people had suspected her of killing her family and skipping town because of the bones found. But he was lucky to be directed to the archives section of the university library where he got to dig through dust-filled cartons for documents allegedly written by Lily Sunders donated by an anonymous person.

Reading through the documents, Sam was amazed at how much Lily Sunders knew about angels, her documents even mentioned about the possibility of summoning one, though an actual summoning ritual was nowhere to be found.

_ ‘Of course if she found that it was dangerous, she would’ve written or destroyed the document by now.’ _

Sam managed to get permission to take the boxes out of the library and later had them scanned and sent to Charlie.

“This Lily chick sure knows her angel stuff.” Charlie commented.

“Were you able to find anything about her angel summoning ritual?”

“I think I found one, but we have a few ingredients missing in the pantry. I’m trying to ask Eileen and Mick for help. But we have one minor problem.”

“What?”

“I assume you want to summon the angels on your dad’s list, yeah? Well, we need the angel’s sigil to do that. And so far, we only have Michael’s”

 

“Well, then I guess we’d have to go through that.” Sam waited as Charlie was silent for several seconds.    

“You mean you want us to summon Michael?  _ The _ Michael?” Sam hummed his agreement.

“That’s our only shot.”

“Okay, so I guess we better write up our last will and testament before that, but I’m totally with you there.”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

~o~

Castiel still thought about his visitor from the other day. It was nice to see a Winchester again, but he still couldn’t figure out how it went from the 1940s to 2018. He started wandering around the house and his yard for any sign of the changing times, but it still looked and feel the same. Yet, when he ventured to town that morning, everything felt different.

“Hello dad, mom.”

He smiled as he adjusted the picture frames on the mantle above the fireplace in his room. He sure wished he at least had his dad with him throughout this whole ordeal, but then there’s no way to bring dead people back to life. He then directed his attention to the second picture frame on his mantle, if Sam had seen it, surely the man would be even more puzzled as to why Castiel has a picture of Lily Sunders in his home.

~o~

Sinclair hummed as he extracted the syringe from the angel’s neck. He’s doing the extractions more frequently now just so he could put the angel to a more vulnerable position as he tried to pry for information about Castiel. He still has Mia mildly interrogate the angel but it’s not working. He had managed to take whatever memory Michael had of Castiel but it wasn’t enough, just a name, and nothing more. What he needed is a location.

“Mia, in my office after you clean him up.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures as they say and Sinclair rummaged through a drawer for something that would surely elicit a response from his angel.

“Mia, darling. I have a favour.” He grinned as he pushed the woman down to a chair.

“Later, we’ll come back to Dean’s den and I want you to put on a little show for him.”

~o~

Dean always felt weak every time Sinclair drains him of his grace. Sometimes he wished his grace was finite so he’d just power down to a human and have Sinclair kill him for his uselessness but you can’t have everything in life. Instead, he tried to focus on the handkerchief Mia tied to his wrist. She said that it was blue in color so that should answer his question, but somehow it still felt that something’s lacking.

“Blue. Castiel.”

He discovered that repeating those words somewhat calmed him down, but there’s still the gnawing feeling of loss in him.

“Dean.”

He did not even notice the fumes seeping into his cell, nor that his mind had started to falter. But when he heard the voice, his head immediately shot up, eyes staring at the man in the trenchcoat approaching him.

“Dean.” The man said again.

It felt wrong how the name sounded so well when the man said it. It didn’t help that his chest started to tighten after he heard it.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

The man knelt in front of him and chains rattled as the angel tried to move his hands. The man instead cupped the angel’s face.

“It’s me, Castiel, don’t you remember?” Their foreheads and nose touch.

“I’m back, Dean.”

The space between them disappeared as Castiel pressed his lips against the angel, insistent yet the motions were almost mechanical. Dean did not respond, and when they broke apart, he looked at the man’s eyes.

“Mia, please.” He whispered.

Blue eyes widened and glimmered gold for a second, confirming Dean’s suspicion, he smiled at the shifter, hoping it would send a message that he held no grudge against her. Instead, he raised instead and shouted:

“I know your games, Sinclair! You can’t trick me!”

“Michael.”

“It’s okay Mia. Please leave now. I… I need to be alone.”

Left alone in his cell without the suffocating fumes, Dean let the weight of Sinclair’s trap sink in. Castiel. The moment Mia stepped into the room wearing that face, he knew, it’s Castiel. Something in him recognized the features, and yet he wasn’t fully able to see past the glamour of the shift no thanks to the fumes clouding his brain. But for a moment he had hoped it was Castiel. Even when they kissed, a part of him wished  that it would be like the others they shared, but of course it wouldn’t.

Because there’s no reason for Castiel to come back for him, there’s no reason for Castiel to even remember him.

But still…

“Castiel.”

He whispered the name over and over until, drained, he sank into unconsciousness, muttering “I need you” as his eyes closed.

~o~

“Mister Castiel?”

Castiel had decided to slowly integrate himself back into the world, and so every morning he made sure to visit town and wander around. In a few days, he’d made friends with several locals, one of them being the elderly man who runs a bookstore.

“Mister Castiel, are you alright?”

The man’s granddaughter who manned the shop that day looked  at him.

“Do you need anything from me?” he blurted out, making the young lady scrunch up her face in confusion.

“Sorry, sorry, I thought I heard someone. Must’ve been my imagination.”

“You dropped something.” She held up an upturned palm.

“Oh, thank you, I didn’t feel it fall down.”

“I’m afraid it’s wrecked, though.”

They were talking about an emerald stud earring, one of the three that adorned Castiel’s ears. It fell down the counter as he was talking to the lady and true enough, the earring appeared to have lost its purpose as the bar had snapped into two and the emerald had a massive crack.

“Well, the thing’s old.”

Which is true. He’s had those earrings for the longest time now, though when and why he got them remained a mystery. He has two on his right ear, and a third on his left, all of them have emerald stones. He’s grown quite fond of them, even though he thinks he looks ridiculous with them on. And he hasn’t tried taking them off, ever.

~o~

Castiel made his way back to his house earlier than usual that morning, as he started feeling unwell. It started with a little throbbing in his head, and soon, he felt his chest tighten. He decided to stay in bed in the hope of having the feeling go away, but it only worsened. Once in a while he would hear his name being called, and sometimes, it’s as if he could hear entire conversations in his head. He tried to will himself to sleep but the more effort he exerted, the voices became louder and his headache worsened. It took almost an hour before he drifted to sleep, but his dreams were a montage of images, scenes overlapping: his father, his mother, Lily Sunders, Henry and Sam Winchester, and of two men whose faces remained hidden from him.

“Castiel.”

The voice was a mixture of his mother’s, father’s, Lily’s and another male voice. He heard his name being called over and over as the scenarios in his dreams flashed by. Soon, the voices calling out his name were replaced by a cacophony of voices, high pitched, and anxious muttering about something. Even in his dreams his headache persisted, and before he knew it, his eyes flew open and he shot up into a sitting position on his bed.

“Michael.” He gasped. He realized it was the name in his dream.

But he doesn’t know of anyone named Michael, so how? Even before he could finish the sentence in his mind, pain exploded in his head once again, and this time, he felt his surroundings shake: an earthquake in the middle of a migraine, great. He tried to grab on to something when the glasses in his window frame shattered. Unknown to him, his eyes had started changing, a faint blue light emanated from them, but slowly, a tinge of gold spread from his iris until it took over, just as he heard the loudest scream in his head,  every glass in his house shattered and he was enveloped in light.

“Dean, where are you?”

That was the last thing he said before he lost consciousness.

~o~

“Are you sure we didn’t miss anything?” Charlie grabbed the printout from Sam and read it. Sam answered her with a look.

The two were holed up in an abandoned warehouse where they did the ritual to summon the archangel Michael. Unfortunately, it’s been close to fifteen minutes yet not a feather could be seen.

“Sorry, sorry.” Charlie apologized as Sam gave her one of his infamous bitchface.

“But it’s taking too damn long isn’t it? Or maybe Michael’s a douche who thinks he’s so important that we need an appoint-“

“Someone called?”

The two stared in front of them where a man dressed in normal jeans and shirt stood, arms outstretched, a goofy grin on his face. The two then looked at each other in confusion.

“Excuse me?” Sam began.

“Well, didn’t you tweedledum and tweedledee knocked on heaven’s door? Well, here’s your answer.”

“You’re Michael? The Archangel Michael?!” Charlie’s voice was oozing with scepticism that the newcomer frowned.

“Ouch! Are you doubting me?! Well, yeah, technically, I’m not Mikey, but I’m still one of your archangels with a capital A. Gabriel, at your service.”

A light surrounded the man, making his silhouette appear on the far side of the wall. Only this time, Sam and Charlie saw a pair of silhouetted wings unfurling from the man’s shadow. With a snap, everything went back to normal and the man, or angel, gave a dramatic bow.

“Gabriel? The messenger? Wait, we summoned Michael, why are you here?”

“First of all Sasquatch, don’t make my job description sound so unimportant. I am more than your viber app. Secondly, Mikey is what I’m here for. What do you want with my brother?”

“We’d like to ask him some questions. Where is he?”

“Not telling. So not unless it’s the apocalypse, then I’m afraid, I’d have to… Son of a bitch!” A ring of fire surrounded him after Charlie tossed a lighter on the floor.

“Holy fire. Looks like you’re not going anywhere, bitch.” The redhead snickered.

“You know, for a pair of monkeys, you’re smart.”

“For a talking bird, you’re quite stupid.” Charlie shot back.

“Okay, what do you want?”

~o~

“Where’s Castiel?”

Dean screamed as Sinclair twisted one of the rods deeper into his skull. He struggled against his bonds, hoping to fight back from the torture being inflicted on him.

“I know you’re remembered more than his name, Dean. Why are you so intent on protecting him, Dean? He hated you, remember?”

“Screw you.” Dean spat.

“I think you’ll find it more agreeable if you’d just cooperate.” Sinclair waved a pointed rod in front of the angel’s face.

“Kill me then.”

“No, Dean.” Sinclair ran the rod through the contraption around Dean’s head, tapping it along the metal, sending vibrations into the rods already impaled in his skull.

“I can’t afford to lose you. But with this…” he slowly inserted the rod into one of the slots, lightly poking the skin and then withdrawing the rod.

“I can render you…sedated., for a very, very long time.” He pierced through Dean’s skin, but stopped.

“It’s not going to be pretty though, I can’t show you off for extra money as I’d imagine you’d just be a drooling mess.” He continued pushing the rod stopping as he hit the bone.

“But I’d be getting what I want from you, every secret you keep, every detail. So you either spare yourself the pain, or you spend your eternal life as a broken angel.”

“Give me an answer, Dean. Where is the Nephilim, Castiel?”

~o~

“Cas, what happened here?”

A few days after talking to Gabriel, Sam drove back to visit Castiel, only to find the man’s house to be a total mess. The windows were blown out, the furniture were either cracked or halved. Castiel was sweeping the floor, his hair stuck up in all odd  placespalces , and there were dark circles under his eyes. Nevertheless, the man offered him a smile.

“Frankly, I don’t know. I just woke up one morning to this. I thought someone broke into the house, but it would appear that nothing was stolen.”

Sam looked concerned. It looked like a hurricane passed through the house, and only the house. His mind went back to Gabriel and the conversation they had.

_ “Michael’s missing?” Sam asked, in disbelief. _

_ “Yes. Last I know he went down on a personal errand. He never returned. We couldn’t locate him, it’s as if he was warded against Heaven.” _

_ “When was the last time you heard from him?” _

_ “He asked to meet me downside one day. He looked like hell, I knew his grace was depleted, but he didn’t tell me anything about it. He just asked me to have an angel blade made.” _

_ “Angel blade?” _

_ “Standard issue weapon for every angel in Heaven. It’s personalized, each angel has their own. They were presented the day they join the army.” _

_ “And Michael is having one made… because…?” Charlie raised an eyebrow, Gabriel shrugged. _

_ “I have no idea. It shouldn’t be given to any mortal, but my brother insisted… and the inscribed name…” _

_ “Name? What name?” _

_ “Castiel.” _

If it was made days ago, it’s impossible for Gabriel to have done this, but it still made Sam uneasy. His grandfather mentioned  Cuthberth Sinclair that seemed to be after Castiel, could the rouge member of the Men of Letters found him?

“Sam?” Sam blinked.

“Would you like some tea? I have extracted honey from my colony yesterday.” The man smiled. Sam graciously accepted.

“I normally don’t eat, but when the townspeople learned about it, they started giving me all these stuff.”  Castiel laughed as he pointed at baskets of bread, vegetables and cake on his kitchen table.

The two talked while Sam ate. Sam asked Castiel if someone was bothering him or if he ran into trouble with someone, but so far, Castiel only knew good people from town. Sam inquired if Castiel knew how to fight, which earned him a negative response.

_ ‘Then why was Michael commissioning a weapon for someone who doesn’t know how to use one?’ _

“You seem perplexed?” Sam shook his head, his face must’ve betrayed his thoughts.

“Castiel. If you want, I can take you with me to stay in a safe place.”

_ ‘I guess Michael was concerned about Sinclair getting to Cas? But why?’ _

“I’m sorry Sam, but I’m staying here. I’ve been here long enough and this place feels like home. I don’t know if the incident will happen again, but I think I can handle it.” Castiel smiled at him, an attempt to reassure the other man.

“But if you’re really worried, you could send me your phone number. I have friends in town who could lend me the use of their phones if necessary.”

Sam left Castiel feeling a bit relieved knowing that the man has his contact number and address. It would be better if he could get Castiel into the bunker though. But right now, looks like his investigation should branch off from Lily Sunders and the angels to the rogue Man of Letters.

~o~

“Nephilim.”

Gabriel almost spat the words out. Ever since he was summoned by the two humans, he had stayed behind and spied on them. He was told they wanted to ask Michael about something about Bigfoot’s grandfather, but Gabriel suspected that there’s more to it. His suspicions were verified when the topic about Castiel arose. Surely the name elicited some reaction from the duo, but they declined to elaborate about it, and having been imprisoned in a circle of holy fire, Gabriel decided coercing the truth out of them is out of the question.

So he pretended to beam up to heaven when he instead stayed invisible and listened to the humans. He’d gathered that Castiel, and his brother, were involved with Akobel and Zaphikiel, two angels who have stayed on earth for an extended period of time, and by the looks of it, Zaphikiel did more than just tour.

“Why did my brother hide you?” he muttered.

As he was looking at the sleeping form of Castiel, his eyes fell on the earring he’s wearing. The emerald stone bore the sigil of his brother, and he could see the spell cast around him.

_ ‘He locked away not just your powers but your memories. Why?’ _

Knowing that Castiel could be the last one to see Michael, Gabriel knew there’s only one way to find out the truth. Placing a hand on the sleeping man’s forehead, he broke his brother’s charm, evidenced by the cracking of the emerald earring. Next, all he has to do was to extract the memories from Castiel’s mind and then…

“Who are you?” A hand clamped around his arm.

Castiel’s eyes are open and his irises were crowned with gold. Gabriel tried to shake his hand free, but the grip was strong.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Who?”

“My brother Michael, where is he?” The glow disappeared from Castiel’s eyes and Gabriel saw that they were blue.

“I don’t know any Michael, I’m sorry.”

“Liar. Let’s jog your memory shall we?” With a smirk, Gabriel’s dug his fingers into Castiel’s skin as he extracted the nephilim’s memories.

Castiel screamed.

~o~

“Cas? Cas! CAS!!!”

Mia tried to calm down the angel who started thrashing and pulling at his chains. Sinclair had gotten tired of torturing the angel and the fear of permanently damaging his investment took over. He had “Dean” thrown back into his cell and sent Mia to tidy him up.

“Michael, shhh… please, calm down. It’s over. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” She tried to pacify the angel, seeing that the bindings around his wrist and wings had started to draw blood.

“Cas! Cas! No! The spell, somebody broke it. Sinclair will get to him. CAS!!!”

No matter how she tried to calm him down, the angel was  hysterical, so much that it roused Sinclair and he had to use a couple of spells to hold him down.

“Looks like he’s finally cracked.” The man snickered, looking at the glazed expression of the angel.

“Let’s take a look into your mind, shall we?” he tapped the long rod against the headpiece he’s holding.

~o~

“What the-“

Charlie and Sam looked up from their books as the lights of the bunker switched to red and the emergency siren blared. The two pulled the revolvers stuck underneath the table and crept out of the archives to check the situation.

“Sam? Sam?”

Sam lowered his gun as he recognized the voice. He motioned for Charlie to switch off the alarm while he sought out their unexpected visitor.

“Castiel? Is that you?” He yelled.

“Sam.”

The tall man jumped as he felt a hand grip his shoulder. To his surprise, he saw Castiel standing beside him, a streak of blood flowing from his ear. He led Castiel to the library and sat him down one of the chairs. Once Charlie joined them, he excused himself to get their guest a glass of water.

“Thank you.” Castiel smiled weakly as he took a sip.

“How’d you get in here?” Charlie asked. She knew how heavily warded the bunker was and this has to be the first time someone just burst in.

“I have no idea. This weird man just appeared in my bedroom and attacked me. All I thought was getting someplace safe and I remembered you.” Blue eyes shifted to Sam.

That’s right, Sam remembered that he left his address and contact number with Castiel. But the man’s several states away, there’s no way he could just pop in that easily.

“The man, do you know who was it?” Charlie broke his train of thought.

_ ‘Sinclair.’ _

“No, I don’t know him, but he’s not human.”

“What?!” Sam exclaimed, surprised that it wasn’t Sinclair.

“Angel. It was an angel. He’s looking for D-Michael.”

“Gabriel.” Sam and Charlie looked at each other.

~o~

_ The knocking on his door was relentless. He’s situated in the middle of nowhere and there’s no reason why someone would be knocking, especially at the dead of the night. But it’s there. _

_ “Please!” a voice called out from behind the door. _

_ “Help…please. I-I need some… help.” _

_ The voice sounded in pain, and he debated whether to open the door or not. It could be a burglar, but then again, even in his weakened state, no burglar could hurt him. Against all instinct, he padded downstairs, opened the door and in tumbled a man, dirty, bruised, and bleeding. _

_ “T-thank you.” _

_ He noted the blue eyes that seemed to smile at him before the man lost consciousness. And he also recognized the face. _

_ “Castiel?” _

~o~

“I remember now. I remember everything.” Castiel began.

“I was born in Pontiac, Illinois where I lived with my father. My mother died when I was born but my father always told me stories about her, he called her his angel. When I was six, we moved to Orono, Maine and lived near a friend of my father’s. But one day, my father said we had to leave, that’s when the men arrived.”

“Men?”

“I remembered seeing them, but their faces weren’t human, and I saw wings on them. I thought it was just a vision, or maybe I was too scared, but the men grabbed my father while their leader placed a hand on my father's head.” Castiel stopped, grabbed on to the glass of water to steady his hand.

“I saw light pour out of my father’s eyes. I wanted to run, but someone was holding me back. When they finally released my father’s body, they all turned to me.” Castiel continued, even as Charlie ran off.

“Then there was a blinding light and the men were gone. I saw my father’s friend at the door, she hugged me and told me we had to leave.”

“Lily Sunders.” Charlie announced, appearing again with her laptop.

“Yes, how did you know?”

~o~

_ “Thank you, for saving me.” _

_ He smiled at the man. How to explain that he knew him? That he’s a friend of his father? How was it that Seraphim Zaphikiel’s son ended up on his  doorstep? _

_ “Where’d you come from, pal? Any family?” he tried to make it appear as nonchalant as possible. _

_ “Maine. I don’t have a family. My parents are both dead, and the woman who raised me had died as well.” _

_ He was concerned by that. Zaphikiel? Dead? How? And why wasn’t he aware of it? _

_ “You’re along way from Maine. What brought you here.” _

_ “I’m kind of a hunter. I was hunting a beast last night and it got the better of me before I managed to kill it.” _

_ Hunter? Monsters? Something’s off with what Castiel’s been saying, but it also seemed plausible. He hasn’t come out of his house for about a year and a half so he doesn’t really know what’s going on outside. A part of him yelled that it was wrong, but he couldn’t turn away the son of his friend. He wondered how Castiel’s wounds were not healing but he sensed the spell Zaphikiel casted that suppressed the boy’s abilities. His friend probably wanted the boy to live a normal life, but then, he ended up as a hunter. _

_ “It’ll take you some time to heal, so if you’re not in a hurry, you could stay here.” _

_ “Thank you… uh, I haven’t really asked for your name. I’m Castiel.” _

_ He stopped. What’s he going to say? Michael? That’s his name, but given that he’s supposed to be in hiding, he should give another name. But what? _

_ “I…” _

_ “Dean.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “If you don’t want to give me your real name, that’s fine. Can I call you Dean?” _

_ “Dean?” He found the name interesting, and even beautiful. _

_ “You look like a Dean to me.” _

_ “Dean.” He muttered. He saw Castiel grinning at him and he looked away. _

_ “Dean. Yeah, I think that’s good..” _

_ “Okay, so you’re Dean. Dean…. Winchester! You’ll be Dean Winchester from now on.” Castiel flashed him a silly, gummy smile and that he unknowingly returned. _

_ “Nice to meet you too, Dean.” Castiel held out his hand. _

_ “Nice to meet you too, Cas- can I call you Cas?”Castiel’s face brightened up even more. _

_ “Yes!” _

_ ~o~ _

“Lily Sunders was a name mentioned by my grandfather to my father.”

“Ah, yes. Henry Winchester. I never knew he’d heard of her.”

“So, Lily took you up? And then what happened?”

“We travelled. I posed as her son and we tried to get away from the men, the angels. She told me they were angels. Thankfully, no one came after us. Later on, she told me that she once did a ritual that summoned an angel, Ishim. At first it was good, but Ishim became obsessed with her, and that’s when she summoned another angel, my father’s friend, Akobel.”

“Does your father know that his friend’s an angel?” Castiel shrugged.

“Ishim later on took revenge by killing Akobel and Lily’s daughter. Then, he came after my family.”

“But why?”

“You’re half angel, aren’t you? A Nephilim?” Sam looked at him.

“I guess? I mean, I never thought there was something more behind my father calling my mother his angel.”

“And then?”

“Lily and I vowed to take revenge. Lily worked tirelessly to find a way to get revenge until finally we were able to make progress. One by one we summoned and killed those who murdered our family. We looked forward to a peaceful life when Lily was killed during a stabbing incident.”

“And that’s when you donated her writings to the Orono library?” Castiel nodded.

~o~

_ “Cas…” _

_ “Hmm?” Castiel hummed as he sucked at the bite mark he left on Dean’s neck. _

_ “Cas, I don’t think we should be doing this.” He squirmed, trying weakly to dislodge Cas’ weight on top of him. _

_ “That’s what you said last night.” Castiel smirked, shifting his attention on Dean’s lips. _

_ “And the night before.” He felt Castiel’s hand snake down to his groin, cupped and squeezed. _

_ “Dammit, Cas.” _

_ “Swear more, angel. I like that.” He shuddered when Castiel dipped his tongue into his ear in time as a finger scratched at the fabric covering his hole. _

_ ~o~ _

“Some time after that, I was approached by a man, Magnus. He said he knew about what happened to me and said he needed my help.”

“Help with what? Angels?” Castiel turned to Charlie and nodded.

“He said he was plagued by one, he managed to capture it using some of Lily’s writings but the angel escaped. He needed me to bring it back and subdue it.”

Castiel watched as his hosts visibly cringe. He wondered what might be going through their minds, and he thought he’d probably be kicked out after he told his story, or maybe sooner, but he doesn’t care. He needed to tell this.

“I got the information from him. I knew all about Lily’s work, I know how to track an angel and how to contain their powers. Magnus, I then learned that his name is Sinclair, told me about the angel that got away from him. The archangel Michael.” He stopped, more memories flooded his mind, but he pushed them away, it’s not the time to think about those, besides, Dean, no Michael probably hates him by now.

“I got into a fight with one of the creatures in Sinclair’s collection and had him teleport me to the place I suspected Michael was. I wasn’t wrong, the man who opened the door for me matched the picture in Sinclair’s files. I also noted how my wounds closed faster than usual when I woke up. Usually it would take longer for them to heal, but obviously Michael did not want me to get suspicious so he didn’t fully heal me. By then I knew I had my target.”

~o~

_ “By dad, where have you been!” Gabriel’s voice was half scolding, half worried and it made him feel better. _

_ “No time to explain, I need you to do something for me.” _

_ “I’ll do what you want, after you go home with me.” The younger brother snapped. _

_ “No, not yet. I need to take care of something here, Gabriel. I just need you to forge an angel blade for me.” _

_ “Are we talking angel or archangel blade?” _

_ “Angel.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “No questions. Also, it’s not for me. I want the name to be inscribed as Castiel.” _

_ “Castiel? What? What’s going on here.” _

_ “Just do it for me, brother.” _

_ He smiled and snapped his fingers, sending Gabriel back to heaven. He would have to tweak the wards around the place to keep his snooping brother out. He went back inside the house, up to the bedroom and back under the blanket. _

_ “Hnnn.” Castiel groaned. _

_ He smiled. He looked at the Nephilim’s face for a long while, he’s memorized that face, but somehow he loves to look at it. It would’ve been nice to see Castiel’s eyes though. _

_ “Stop staring at me while I sleep.” Castiel muttered. _

_ “I wasn’t” he chuckled. _

_ “Liar.” Castiel opened his eyes and smirked. _

_ “Where were you?” Castiel inched closer to him and he felt an arm around his waist. _

_ “Just wanted some fresh air.” _

_ “Don’t go wandering on your own. It’s dark.” _

_ “I’m a grown man.” _

_ “No arguments. It’s dangerous out there.” _

_ He just laughed and nodded. After a few minutes , he felt Castiel’s grip slackened and he wriggled a bit. To his surprise, Castiel immediately clung to him, muttering something indiscernible. _

_ “Cas, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered. _

_ “Hnnn.” _

_ ~o~ _

“Things were going smoothly. I had Michael dancing around my palm. He had no idea I was working with Sinclair. I planned on luring him out to town one day where I’d trap him and restrain him then hand him over to Sinclair. But…”

“Did you do it?” Castiel avoided Sam’s gaze as he nodded.

“Under some pretense, I got him to go with me to town. I led him to a clearing and immediately immobilized him with a spell. Soon enough, Sinclair appeared and he brought us back to his place. I know I should be feeling nothing then, bBut I couldn’t even look at him.”

“Well duh, dude, you just betrayed your friend.” Charlie rolled her eyes. Sam silenced her with a look.

“True.”

~o~

_ How stupid was he to be caught. Again? He knew Castiel didn’t feel right the moment he knocked on his door and yet he let him in. And now? _

_ “Welcome home, Dean.” Sinclair grinned. _

_ He snarled. He doesn’t like Sinclair saying that name. It felt dirty, and wrong. Or maybe that’s just what he felt, at having slept with someone who was clearly just leading him on. His eyes fell on Castiel who was standing beside Sinclair, he glared. _

_ And Castiel glared back. _

_ “Now Castiel, since this man is an angel, like the one who killed your parents, would you do me the honor of binding him?” _

_ He saw the moment Castiel took the knife handed over to him by Sinclair. As if in slow motion, he watched as Castiel walked closer , towered over him, the knife gleaming in his hand. _

_ The hand that used to hold him, make love to him. _

_ The cuts he received then were the most painful of all the things he endured. _

_ ~o~ _

“I stayed. I watched as Sinclair drain him of his grace. I carved every spell, every sigil that bound him.” He shuddered.

“I stayed because I thought it would make me feel good. I was irritated at how each cut just seem wrong to me so I cut him over and over. But the feeling just got worse.”

“Until one day, after I placed a new set of spell to start binding his wings, I saw Sinclair come into his cell and take away his grace. I heard the scream. De-Michael doesn’t scream. He rarely does, only when he’s weakened, and even then it was controlled. The scream I heard that day was ear shattering, and I felt something, it’s like his heartbeat, I could hear it, and I felt it slowing down. Then his thoughts flowed into my head. That bastard knew of what happened to me, Sinclair told him, and in his heart, Dean found a way to forgive me. I don’t know what got into me but I just burst into his cell, the door bursting open and Sinclair being thrown out.”

~o~

_ The wave of power surprised him. At first it was the door, and then Sinclair was yanked out by an invisible force. He knew who did it. He could feel the power of the Nephilim growing. Zaphikiel’s seal has broken and Castiel’s free to use his power. He’s not sure if the Nephilim is out to kill him, but frankly, it doesn’t matter. If it would appease Castiel’s hatred of the angels, then he’d be willing to make the sacrifice. _

_ “Dean?” _

_ The voice was calm, a total contrast to the force that almost ripped the room apart. He felt his chains fall  and he crumpled to the floor, but Castiel was quick to catch him. _

_ “Dean, I’m sorry. I-“ _

_ Castiel’s eyes bulge open as he heard several sounds of gunshot. For a moment, he panicked, not knowing that being a Nephilim, it would take more than bullets to actually hurt Castiel. Castiel apparently realized it too, as  he gently laid Dean on the floor (after a gentle kiss on the forehead) before facing Sinclair. _

_ “I’m taking him.” _

_ “You---you’re a Nephilim!” _

_ “Don’t come after us if you want—“ _

_ He heard Castiel choke, and saw as the man doubled over, clutching at his throat. _

_ “Looks like I have more tricks up my sleeve. Will you look at that, an archangel, and a Nephilim, both right here. Another addition to my collection.” _

_ “No.” he croaked, struggling to stand up. _

_ “D-Dean, no!” _

_ “A Nephilim is no use to you. Take me.” _

_ “DEAN, I SAID NO!” _

_ “Sorry, but I’d rather have two of you.” _

_ “Well then…” he turned to look at Castiel. _

_ “Sorry.” _

_ ~o~ _

“That was the first time I saw his wings, and they were beautiful. He placed a hand on my ears, and I guess that’s when he put the earrings on me. Then he placed two fingers on my forehead. I begged him to come with me. If I’d mastered my powers then, I could’ve gotten us out of there.”

“Hey, wasn’t your fault. Well, not all of it.” Castiel managed to smile at what Charlie said.

“The last thing I he told me was that he’ll make sure Sinclair won’t be able to get to me. That I’ll be safe. And…”

~o~

_ He tried to smile as he said his goodbye. He knew that if things worked out fine, he’d never be able to see Castiel. Ever. But it’s okay, as long as he’ll be safe. He made sure to seal away Castiel’s powers, and his memories. _

_ “You’ll be safe.” He smiled. He saw Castiel’s eyes widen. _

_ “Thank you, for everything.” _

_ ~o~ _

“And that’s it?”

“Yes. He zapped me back to the house, and that’s where I stayed until Sam came.”

“So that means, Michael is still with Sinclair.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why Gabriel came to you. But if Michael warded the place, how did he find it out?”

“By following you, Sasquatch!”

The three almost knocked their chairs out when the archangel appeared.

“I can’t believe my brother went to a lot of trouble for a traitor. And an abomination.” He glared at Castiel.

“What do you want?”

“I assume you already know. Tell me where that Sinclair dude is hiding my brother and I’ll contemplate on having you rot in heaven’s prison instead of burning you alive.”

“You think I’m scared of you?” Castiel’s eyes started glowing gold, at the same time, Gabriel’s eyes glowed blue.

“Okay, first of all, you two are not fighting here!” Charlie announced, bravely wedging herself in between the two angels.

“Secondly, we’re coming with you.”

“WHAT?!” The angels and the man shouted in unison.

~o~

Dean lifted his head. He’s back in his cell, blood caked around his forehead from where the rods pierced him. The chains felt heavier, but at least he managed to remember everything.

“Castiel.”

He wonders what Castiel’s been doing. Had he ventured out of the magical place? Had he settled down? Met a woman to marry and start a family? He wanted to see Castiel one more time. It didn’t help that Mia appeared as Castiel to him and kissed him, making him long for more. But at least now he has more than a color and a name to remember.

“Hello Dean.”

That voice. Mia was able to copy Castiel’s voice but this time, he’s sure that the one he heard did not come from the shifter. Looking at the doorway, he saw a man in a trenchcoat approach him.

“Cas?”

He shook his head. This has to be Mia, another of Sinclair’s traps. But the hand than landed on his shoulder made his grace leap inside of him, igniting a fire he’d kept a long time ago. He looked at the man in front of him.

“Mia. Mia, please. Not now.”

He’s not going to give in to false hope.

 

“It’s me, Cas. Have you forgotten?”

Those eyes. Of course, how could he forget. Not even Mia could replicate those colors.

Blue.

“Cas?” Cas nodded.

“I’m taking you home.”

Before he could react, Castiel kissed him. Unlike Mia, he knew those lips, the feel, the taste, they stayed the same for him. He willingly opened  his mouth and let Cas explore inside and he mewled as Cas pulled back.

He was holding a knife.

“Do you trust me?”

He looked at the knife, searched himself if it’s wise to trust this man again.

“Yes.”

Castiel pulled him close, pressed their lips once more. This time the kiss was brutal, all teeth and blood. Dean moaned as he tried to take in more of Castiel, to latch on to the Nephilim’s lips. Meanwhile, Castiel’s hand gripped him tight, while the other hand with the knife positioned itself against Dean’s chest.

Castiel started carving. He drowned Dean’s scream with his kisses, his hands travelling up to the archangel's wings to caress them. Soon, Dean was shaking, moaning against him, and he continued slicing.

“Cas.” Dean whispered.

He’s covered in blood, and his body gleamed with the grace escaping him. The Nephilim licked some of his blood and wiped his mouth then took the angel blade and sliced his own arm, letting grace flow out which he offered to Dean. Dean took the invitation and placed his mouth against the gaping wound that leaked of grace, sucking it into his system, letting it replenish his strength. At having the restraints around his body broken, he was strong enough to break free from the chains binding him. Once his hands were free, he grabbed the angel blade from the Nephilim and drew a long line down Castiel’s throat.

“Dean.” Castiel whined.

Dean healed the wound on Castiel’s arm as he sucked on the wound he made on Castiel’s neck, the Nephilim’s grace giving him life.

That’s when the door to his cell burst open. Dean raised his head just in time to see Sinclair march inside. He knew the human would cast a spell or try to bind them, so he moved fast. With his replenished grace, he’s now strong enough to smite the mortal.

“Dean, don’t.” Castiel said.

~o~

“Are you sure we can get inside?” Gabriel threw a sideward glance at Sam who was taking out boxes from the trunk of his car.

Castiel led them to the a spot in the forest and told them Sinclair’s mansion is just there, although invisible. Castiel knows how to get into the mansion, but he disappeared even before the others could ask if he could smuggle them there.

“We’ll see.” He glared at Gabriel as he passed a bowl to Charlie.

“Gimme your hand.”

“Hey, hey, HEY!!!!” Gabriel screamed as Sam sliced his palm.

“It needs angel grace.” Sam shrugged.

“And you didn’t pick one from that pantry of yours?!”

“Not when there’s fresh supply. This is the cinch. If we can’t get inside, then the grace is defective.”

“You---…”

“Ooookay, kids, behave!” Charlie raised her hands before uttering the spell.

Charlie then poured the contents of the bowl to the ground, leaving a bubbling puddle.

“Angels first.” Charlie grinned.

It took only a moment for the three of them to get into the mansion. They decided to split up, Gabriel on his own while Sam and Charlie teamed up.

“Just look at all the stuff this Sinclair has! It’s crazy!”

“I know, Charlie, just focus!”

“Eherm, okay.”

“Who are you?!”

The two turn around, guns pointed at the woman in front of them.

“We’re looking for someone. An angel.”

“Michael?”

“Yes! Yes, do you know him?!” Charlie asked. Mia stared at their guns.

“Okay, okay, we’re not going to hurt him, or you. Can you show us where is he?”

“Yes. But we have to be careful. Sinclair rushed to Michael’s cell, something must be up.”

The two let Mia to lead them to the cell, and was surprised to see Gabriel had already beat them there.

“Gabriel? And who’s that?”

“Oh this?” He motioned at the man who lay immobile on the floor, being trodden by the archangel’s foot.

“You missed the action Sasquatch, the damned Nephilim has left… with my brother.”

“What?!” Charlie and Mia exclaimed.

“Excuse me while I drag this idiot back to Heaven to answer for his crime.”

With this, Gabriel disappeared.

“So, Michael has left? Is he safe?” Mia had grabbed on to Sam’s arm.

“Yes. He’s… he’s with a friend.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, not really, but hoping is the only thing we could do right now…”

~o~

His body had stopped throbbing in pain and he could only feel warmth. He opened his eyes and saw golden eyes looking down at him.

Castiel.

He tried to get up but hands pushed him down.

“You’re not strong enough. Throwing Sinclair around the room used up your energy, and whatever grace you got from me.” But he still sat up, smiling at the irritation on the Nephilim’s face.

“I can’t heal you, but I could help fasten up the healing process, that’s the least I could do.” He felt the Castiel’s guilt.

“I… I’m sorry. I was so blinded by my rage.” Eyes shifted from gold back to blue, and Castiel immediately looked away from the archangel.

“I understand. Your first meeting with angels was a disaster. But your father, he’s a good soldier, a good angel.”

“My father? No, my mother-she…” Dean shook his head.

“No mortal woman could give birth to a Nephilim and live. Your father was Zaphikiel, a Seraph from heaven. He commanded several garrisons while he was in heaven. He used to accompany me in my trips to Earth and that’s where he met your mother.” Castiel just gaped as he listened.

“He decided to leave heaven and spend time with the lady. After all, a span of a human’s life is nothing to an angel. He knew it was wrong, but he was so in love with your mother.” Castiel smiled fondly.

“He was heartbroken when your mother died, but he was so happy that you lived.”

“So, it was my father all along. And I hated his kind.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And what you did for me now. I guess that calls it even?”

“But I hurt you. I tricked you.”

“And then you saved me.”

Dean cupped Castiel’s cheek, their eyes met and for a second, their faces drew close, but Castiel pulled back at the last minute.

“I---I have to do something.” Castiel stammered then ran out of the room.

Right, Dean thought. Of course Cas doesn’t feel the same. What happened between them was a ploy. He sighed then got out of bed. He noticed that he’s in a cabin that’s situated somewhere near the mountains. The air smelled sweet and fresh. He wandered around the quaint cottage until he sad Cas at the backyard, working on cutting some logs. He watched the Nephilim work. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, and knew it was from Cas. The Nephilim was hurting. Was he in pain because Dean was there?

_ Of course. _

He stared at Cas for a while, his mind coming up with a decision.

“Dean?” Cas looked up just in time for Dean to disappear.

~o~

“And? You came here because you want us to help you summon Dean?” Charlie looked at him.

“No. I came here to give you some honey. Sam asked what happened and I just told it.” Castiel shrugged. Charlie let out an exasperated growl.

“Wait, listen. Are you telling…” she gestured to her, Sam and Mia who were sitting in the library listening to Castiel’s story, “us, that you saved Michael, he tried to kiss you, and you ran away end of story?” a splash of crimson spread  throughout Castiel’s cheek.

“Yes.”

“Let me get this straight… er, whatever. I need you to answer me in all honesty. Do you, in any way, even in the slightest, feel something for Michael?”

Pause. Only Charlie’s finger tapping on the solid wood table top could be heard.

“I…” Castiel began, looked up at his spectators and then averted his eyes.

A long pause.

“I don’t think that matters. Dean, no, Michael surely doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Dude tried to kiss you.” Charlie reminded him.

“That was just… maybe it was nerves? He was confused? I deceived him, played with him. There’s no way…” Charlie was lightly ramming her forehead on the table.

“Castiel.” Mia spoke.

“There was one instance when Michael almost escaped Sinclair. He tried for years, but that was the only time he got so close to doing it. And that was after remembering your name.”

“Maybe… Maybe he was angry at me?”

“Kill me. Now.” Charlie groaned, pulling at Sam’s sleeve.

“I think it’s better if you talk to him first.”

“But…”

“We’re not taking a no for an answer, Castiel.” Mia smiled but her voice has a vibe of authority in it.

“Okay. I think I know what to do. Charlie, you help me get the materials for the summoning spell.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” she gave him a salute and marched off.

“Castiel.” Mia began once they were alone.

“When you get to see Michael again, ask him what is the color he loves most and why.” Castiel gave her a puzzled look but Mia just laughed.

“Indulge me on this one.”

~o~

“Y’know what? We can do this all day, or even until I’m ninety-five but we’re not gonna let you out of there until you two talk.”

Charlie hollered, smugly waving the jug of holy oil in her hands.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Sorry Michael, you two have to work on your communication skills. So better hop on to it, boys!”

Upon Sam’s request, Castiel zapped himself, Sam, Charlie, and Mia to the abandoned barn where Sam and Charlie attempted to summon Michael. They succeeded in luring the archangel once Charlie mentioned (in passing, as she would assert) that Castiel in particular wanted to see the archangel. Once the two were face to face, Sam threw a lighter onto the floor and an angry ring of fire surrounded the two.

“Hello Michael.” Castiel began. His eyes focused on his shoes.

“Cas.”

Cas lifted his head and his eyes instantly locked on Michael’s. He realized he hasn’t gazed into those beautiful green eyes for a long time. Even during their brief reunion, he wasn’t able to focus on them. And he started to feel something, a kind of aura that radiated from Michael. It came to him as a sound, something like a sad song of longing for something, and miraculously, he felt his grace respond, and he could tell that Dean could feel it too, because he was looking at him as if he grew an extra head. Without thinking, the reached out for the archangel and pulled him for a kiss.

“Wow, who would’ve thought it would escalate that quick? Damn, I wish I brought popcorn.” Charlie said.

“GET YOUR HAND OFF MY BROTHER!!!”

All heads turned to Gabriel who just popped into the whole scene and immediately snapped his fingers to extinguish the ring of fire.

“Hey! You cheater!” Charlie screamed.

“Gabriel, calm down.” Michael laughed.

“Calm down? I see my brother in a lip lock with an abomination and you want me to chill?!”

“Gabriel.”

“What? Just telling it like it is! Now, let’s all go back home shall we.”

Upon hearing this, Castiel turned to look at the archangel beside him, Michael smiled and grabbed his hand.

“I’m sorry Gabe, but I’m going to stay here.” 

“Wha-“ Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, like  a fish out of water gasping for breath.

“And since you mentioned going home…” Michael snapped his fingers and they were gone.

~o~

Dean zapped them back to the house where Castiel once knocked on his door on a pretense of being a hurt hunter.

“You’re okay with this, are you? With me?” he asked nervously.

Castiel answered with kisses, and flew them both up to the bedroom where he promptly laid the archangel down onto what was once their bed.

“Welcome home, Michael.”

“Dean.” For a moment, the lust in Castiel’s eyes disappeared as he tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“That’s the name you gave me, right? Call me Dean.” He looked away from the Nephilim as he spoke.

And Castiel obliged.

“I love you, Dean.” He whispered, planting a kiss on Dean’s nose.

After that, his name was used in ways his Father or none of the angels in Heaven would approve of. But Dean enjoyed how Castiel says his name: in loving tones as Castiel worshipped his body with his lips, teeth, and tongue. Struggling to complete the name as Dean pleasured him with his mouth. And once Castiel took him, his name became a prayer chanted each time Castiel thrust into him. Who could think one word, one name could produce such effect. And the final mention of his name as Cas exploded inside him, holding him close, face buried at the crook of his neck, Dean has found himself a new heaven.

“Dean?”

It was daylight. Castiel’s roosters had been screaming for a while now and the  rays of the sun has found its way through the windows. Neither of them slept, instead, they just held each other, hands exploring, caressing, squeezing.

“Cas?”

“I was supposed to asked you this. What is your favourite color and why?”

“Damnit, Mia.” He hissed

“It’s blue.” He said as dismissively as possible. Castiel face lit up, and Dean hoped he wasn’t blushing.

_ Damnit, how many times have you had sex with him last night? And you’re blushing like a fledgling because of one stupid question? _

“I see. You’re an angel, so naturally, you’d like blue. The sky has the prettiest shade of blue ever created.”

“Well, not really.”

“There’s something more beautiful than the sky?”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide with amazement, making the colors of his eyes more prominent, gleaming even. And there was an innocence in Castiel’s voice that Dean could not quite grasp.

_ Dude, you screwed me so hard last night I’m sure dad wherever he is heard me scream your name and now you look at me with those big, blue eyes like you’re the purest puppy in all of creation. And how dense can you be? _

“It’s your eyes, dumbass.”

“My eyes?”

“Your eyes.” Dean began, cupping Castiel’s cheeks.

“…have always reminded me of the sky, of home.” He said, looking into those eyes as he closed the gap between them.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap! Hope you enjoyed it! Visit me at magicknightriderjellyfish.tumblr.com


End file.
